


No Longer

by BrickSheep



Series: Detroit: Become Human AUs [6]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Connor Needs A Hug, Gen, Hugs, Human AU, Human Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Hurt/Comfort, Teen Connor (Detroit: Become Human)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-05-19 17:22:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14878094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrickSheep/pseuds/BrickSheep
Summary: Hank meets Connor. The bruises on Connor's skin hint to something else and Hank knows he's not going to like it.





	No Longer

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt from anon on my Tumblr [Brascul](http://brascul.tumblr.com/).

It started with a ten dollar bill.

Some kid walks up to his door one day and asks him if he could mow his lawn for some cash. Hank had considered turning him away but one look at his lawn makes him hesitate.

It was just a ten dollar bill.

It’s not like it was a major loss to his finances. 

So he gives the kid what he wants and the kid does a surprisingly good job. He’s so efficient that Hank thinks he’s looking at a gardening magazine when he walks out to inspect it. He doesn’t even think twice about hiring the kid again when he learns he lives a few houses down the street. The boy is eager to accept, anyway, so Hank found no harm in it.

At first, it was just mowing the lawn.

Then Hank starts paying him to walk his dog, Sumo.

Hank is a busy man. When he isn’t out at bars or self-loathing, he’s working on homicide cases, and that took a lot of his time. Walking his dog was one of the things that his time couldn’t afford so he started paying the kid to do it for him. Sumo needed his walks. It wasn’t right to leave the poor dog in the house all day. Just thinking about it is rather depressing because Hank _loves_ his dog. He wants the best for him even if he doesn’t like showing it too often.

The kid’s name is Connor.

He learns it after he realizes he had never asked for his name. Connor is a lanky teenager, stiff in the shoulders, but he had a charm that others didn't have. He saw a maturity in Connor that most adults lacked. Hank sometimes felt like he was talking to someone his age when talking to Connor. Then Hank remembers Connor is sixteen. Still a kid. Connor could deny it as much as he wanted, could tell Hank to stop calling him _kid_ but Hank wouldn’t relent. Connor was a kid in his eyes. A kid with a childhood stolen and eyes with an intelligence gained from dark events. 

Hank started suspecting things when he saw Connor visit him with bruises.

The kid shuffles in his spot, says it’s nothing, and Hank’s eyes would narrow and latch on the purple blotches on his skin with an eagle trained view.

Hank confronts him about it.

Connor answers, “Mr. Anderson, I don’t mean any offense, but I honestly don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

And it wasn’t any of Hank’s business because Hank didn’t even know Connor all that well. He was just the kid who came over to walk his dog and mow his lawn.

Except, that was wrong because Connor was more than that.

Hank remembers Connor practically breaking into his house when he was worried he was dead. Hank was on the floor of his kitchen, gun laying not too far from his hand, and Connor had assumed the worst.

He busts in, checks his pulse, and calls 911.

That was a hard thing to explain to the cops.

Connor wouldn’t leave him alone. He’d start visiting Hank not only for money but for companionship. Hank suspects there’s more to it but he finds that he doesn’t mind all too much. Hearing Connor’s laughter lifts his mood and he begins to look forward to his visits. Sometimes when he’d look over from his favorite spot at his dining table, he’d see Connor wrestling with Sumo, and the sight alone made him feel so much _happier_.

For a small moment, everything is right in the world.

Then Connor stops visiting.

Hank tries to ignore it at first. Connor is his own person, he can do as he likes, but his visiting had stopped abruptly without warning. 

It’s irritating with how concerned Hank finds himself becoming as the days pass. He tries to drink it all away with alcohol but all it does is heighten the nagging feeling in his stomach. It twists his rational thinking and fills his head with worry. 

It’s suffocating.

That’s why Hank goes to Connor’s home. He knocks on the door and curses himself for being so weak against his emotions.

No one answers.

Hank tries again the next day but the results are the same.

He tries the day after. Then he tries the day after that.

It’s the fourth day and he’s just about given up until he sees a form out of the corner of his eye. Someone is limping toward the shack positioned nearby the house. He takes one hard look at the figure. One good look is all he needs to realize it’s Connor.

It’s embarrassing how fast he heads to the boy’s side.

“Connor?”

The boy jumps.

Connor turns slowly and Hank is _horrified_ at what he sees next.

Bruises littered his face. He had a black eye and he was sporting a split lip. Connor’s appearance was shocking because Hank had never seen him in such a… state… for lack of a better term. 

“Hank?” Connor returns, his voice weak.

Hank remembers he had seen Connor limping and lets his gaze drift downward.

Connor, aware of his current position, shifts uncomfortably in place.

Hank doesn’t think, he just does.

He slings Connor over his shoulder.

“Hey, wait, what do you think you’re doing!?” The boy shouts in his surprise. 

“You’re coming home with me and I’m going to fix you up,” Hank answers.

“This is kidnapping!” Connor claims.

“You’re hurt,” Hank replies, gritting his teeth, “and if you think I’m just going to stand by while you’re dragging yourself around like a pathetic lost puppy, you’re dead wrong.”

“Why do you even _care?_ ” Connor whispers brokenly.

Hank is silent because he doesn’t know the answer.

Why _did_ he care? He couldn’t find an explanation.

Hank kicks open his door and sets Connor on his couch. He leaves to retrieve his first aid kit and returns as quickly as he can. He checks the kid’s face, feels around his ribs for any broken bones, and then inspects his swollen ankle. 

“It’s sprained,” Hank states the obvious.

Connor bites his bottom lip in pain as Hank examines it closer. Simply jostling it seemed to put the kid in discomfort.

“How did this happen to you anyway?” Hank asks.

Connor is eerily silent at that.

“Tell me the truth kid, is someone hurting you?”

The mere thought throws Hank into a rage. 

Connor’s shoulders slump in defeat.

“My mom,” he whispers, “ever since she lost my dad to an accident she’s… she’s changed.”

Connor sits there and tells Hank everything. He tells Hank that his mom hardly comes home and that when she does, it usually doesn’t end well for Connor. He tells Hank that his mom forgot to fill the fridge for him so he needed cash to buy food. The little that he saved up was supposed to go into finding a place of his own, that way he wouldn’t have to live with his mother anymore, but when his mom had found out… the consequence was a fit of abuse. 

Connor talks.

Hank listens.

Connor’s voice wavers as if he’s on the verge of crying and Hank grabs the boy by the shoulders.

“Connor,” he says, “you aren’t alone in this. We’ll think of something.”

And Hank _meant_ it.

When arms are thrown around his sides he doesn’t think twice. His arms return the hug just as eagerly, tighter than the trembling arms that cling to his figure, and he doesn’t dream of letting go.

Hank decides something then.

Connor wouldn’t suffer alone.

He’d make sure of that.


End file.
